


People Are Hard

by Vorvayne



Series: People Are Hard [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: BDSM, Byakuya has issues, M/M, Office Sex, lots of issues, the archive warning is mostly just to be on the safe side, though there is a dub-con scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorvayne/pseuds/Vorvayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Working Relationship. </p><p>"Byakuya just stops, and they lie there and look at each other, and not a single concrete thought can enter his head because it’s full of the image of Renji struggling uselessly under his hands."</p><p>Byakuya and Renji try to sort themselves out. It turns out to be more difficult than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People Are Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaaand I finally posted it. This picks up directly after Working Relationship, and will make very little sense if you haven't read that. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who put up with my wailing on tumblr when I was stuck/having feelings while writing this. Extra-special thanks, cookies, and anything else she wants to my lovely Lucymonster, without whom this would be about 3k shorter and not even half as good.

Byakuya manages to panic in the morning; first at the unfamiliar warmth next to him, then at the thought that he might have slept in, then at the idea that someone from the sixth will find them here. He rises, dresses and fetches some tea, while Renji begins to stir. By the time he has returned with the tea, Renji is sitting up with his hakama on. Byakuya doesn’t know where to look, or what the protocol is in this situation, so he pours himself some tea and says, “Get dressed. Everyone else will be arriving soon.”

Renji raises one eyebrow. “On the division’s weekend off? Probably not.”

Which takes the wind out of Byakuya’s back-to-professionalism sails somewhat. Renji yawns, stretches and stands. “I will get dressed, though, if you want.”

Byakuya finds himself watching the way Renji’s tattooed shoulders move as he picks up his shihakusho and shucks it on. It’s stranger, somehow, than seeing Renji naked when they have sex, because they’re in fact having a conversation where Renji seems to be behaving exactly as he would if they were talking about division business, minus the reverse striptease. Renji throws a small smile over his shoulder at Byakuya as he belts his sash and tucks in Zabimaru.

Byakuya looks away, feeling unsteady all of a sudden, and he remembers that he hasn’t had a proper meal in far too long. He wants to leave and head back to Kuchiki manor, but there is probably some etiquette here he ought to observe; just taking off is rude, surely?  
  
“I – will be going home for some breakfast,” Byakuya announces, and even though he’s certain it came out painfully awkward, another smile tugs at the corner of Renji’s mouth.

“Good idea,” Renji says, seeming disconcertingly relaxed as he ties his hair up. “See you on Monday, Byakuya,” he says, and on his way out he pauses to press a swift kiss to Byakuya’s lips. In a moment he’s out of sight, but Byakuya can hear him whistling as he heads – home, probably.

It takes Byakuya several minutes longer than it should to gather his wits and head to his own home, but when he arrives breakfast is being served, and he sits down with relief opposite Rukia, who smiles at him cheerfully around a mouthful of natto onigiri. She swallows, and says, “You look well this morning, Nii-sama.”

Byakuya selects a bowl of miso soup, rice and some grilled salmon and begins to eat, finding himself ravenously hungry. “I took an early night, and feel much better,” he says.

The smile changes, somehow, as she says, “I’m glad,” and he isn’t sure why there’s a tightness in his throat as he nods.

 

-

 

Byakuya arrives at the sixth early that Monday, well-slept for once. No one asked pointed questions about his health all weekend, and he heads towards his office with renewed determination to get his paperwork back in its usual efficient order. His – distraction last week will not be repeated. The paperwork situation is likely not all that bad, anyway; he’s aware that his normal standards are high, and surely this means that the situation will not be dire.

He sits down and stares blankly.

His desk is a _disaster_.

Nothing is organised: he no longer has recognisable “to do”, “doing” and “done” trays because they are hidden under bits of paper, his brush is poking out from under a pile of unsigned reports, the “urgent” pile is nowhere to be found, and there’s even paper on the _floor._ Byakuya takes a few deep breaths, and leaves to fetch some tea.

When he returns, the mess is still there, so he sits down and begins to reorganise, hoping – probably a futile hope, really – that no one else saw his desk like this. The “urgent” pile ends up being much larger than usual once he’s finished, and Byakuya turns his attention to actually completing all the paperwork.

He manages to get through a significant amount by the time he can hear the rest of the division arriving, and it’s only been about an hour since he arrived. Renji will be here by now. Byakuya   spent the whole weekend carefully not thinking about Renji, because he can’t spend his whole life thinking about his fukutaichou, and anyway, he has no idea _what_ to think.

Except, of course, that fraternising during office hours is unacceptable, and won’t be happening again, but that seems somewhat beside the point. The point is – he’s not sure what the point is. He hopes Renji understands not to call him _Byakuya_ unless they’re alone, and he’s still not sure how he feels about such a liberty, except that it makes him shiver.  And as for the kiss this morning – Byakuya can still taste the disconcerting memory – that _definitely_ cannot happen. He hopes he’s not going to have to have an actual conversation about this, because the last time he tried, it did not end well.

Not for the conversation anyway, which was somewhat truncated.

Renji ends his conflicted train of thought by knocking on his doorframe, then coming in with some papers. “Morning, Taichou,” he says. His eyes flick to Byakuya’s desk, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “Okay, I’ve got the minutes of the budget meeting last week, some special requisition forms from the twelfth labelled _urgent_ , but they’re just a bunch of impatient sods, and – oh, yeah, Hitsugaya-taichou wanted to make an appointment to see you. I told him you were probably free at eleven or so tomorrow, but that I’d check with you and get back to him.” He leans forward to place the missives on Byakuya’s desk, and Byakuya finds himself flinching slightly at how _close_ Renji is.

“That’s fine,” he says.

Renji looks at him, chewing the corner of his mouth, and perhaps one eyebrow flickers a bit.  “Taichou, I’m perfectly capable of not kissing you in front of the division, yeah?”

That should be reassuring, but it isn’t. “I see.”

Renji grins. “We can talk later, if you like.” His expression suggests that they could do things that don’t involve any talking at all, before he heads back to his own office.

Byakuya returns to his paperwork, and attempts to resign himself to the idea that he has no idea what he’s doing.

 

-

 

Byakuya stays late, and this time it really _is_ to get work done, since he fell so far behind last week. Still, he’s surprised when Renji ducks his head in and says, “It’s late, Taichou. You want some tea?” and he finds himself having tea in his office with Renji at 8pm after the entire rest of the squad has gone home.

It should be – stranger than it is. They’ve never done this before, at least not without some division business to discuss, and during office hours at that, but Renji doesn’t look awkward at all as he pours tea and hands Byakuya a cup. Without the distraction of work, Byakuya finds himself wanting to undo Renji again, undo his hair tie and his sash to allow his hair and shihakusho loose. Byakuya thinks back to Saturday morning, and how Renji isn’t ashamed of his naked body.

It’s beginning to seem to Byakuya as if Renji isn’t ashamed of _anything_.

He doesn’t want tea. He wants Renji, and comes to the uncomfortable realisation that Renji has always approached him, and not the other way around, which leaves him with little idea how to proceed. He can’t just – reach, can he? Should he begin with some sort of verbal opening?

“Come here.”

Renji’s expression changes immediately, from cheerful and relaxed to something intense and heavy-lidded. He puts down his tea and shuffles closer, till he’s within arm’s reach, and Byakuya still doesn’t know what to do, because the dominant impulse is to drag Renji close and leave bitemarks on every inch of skin, turn him over and fuck him so Byakuya can hear the sounds he makes again.

He reaches out an uncertain hand till it reaches Renji’s jaw. Renji shivers a bit, and Byakuya almost pulls back again, but then Renji is close and kissing him, and his hand around the side of Renji’s neck grips more tightly of its own accord. Renji likes to be kissed, he remembers, and puts aside the urge to grab Renji’s hair and kiss fiercely and bite.

Renji pulls back for a minute and looks at him, and Byakuya is suddenly sure that something has gone wrong. Renji swallows and says, “You can do whatever you like. I like it. I like _you_ ,” in an unsteady voice.

So Byakuya undoes the ties on all of Renji’s clothes, and allows Renji to take care of his. He nips at Renji’s bottom lip, and worries until Renji’s gasp dissolves into a long moan. He pushes Renji backwards until he’s sitting on Byakuya’s desk. He stands between Renji’s parted legs and pushes in slowly, drawing a breath that will not remain steady.

Renji wraps his legs tightly around Byakuya’s hips, drawing him in until they’re both splayed out against the desk, and Renji’s head is tipped back to expose his throat, and his hands slide up and down Byakuya’s back. Renji’s powerful thighs tense and relax around his hips, and he could probably trap Byakuya here. It makes him want to tear away, a little, but then he would have to stop littering small bites all over Renji’s neck and chest. Renji is holding on to Byakuya with all four limbs, encouraging Byakuya’s rhythm with his legs, and that means that he _wants_ , just as much as Byakuya does. The wanting draws up that half-suppressed impulse to push, bite, tear, and Byakuya pulls Renji’s hands off his back and pins his wrists to the desk.

Renji arches his back, and his eyes open. “So am I supposed to fight back, or let you pin me?”

Byakuya just stops, and they lie there and look at each other, and not a single concrete thought can enter his head because it’s full of the image of Renji, struggling uselessly under his hands.

He wrenches away and turns, and is suddenly completely unable to bear his own nakedness. He picks up the first piece of clothing he finds and throws it on. Of course, it turns out to be Renji’s shihakusho, which is far too large for him.

He cannot do this. He was a fool to think he could.

There’s a shuffling from behind him. “Byakuya,” Renji says, his voice just to Byakuya’s left, and Byakuya cannot bring himself to meet Renji’s eyes. He glances at Renji’s abraded wrists, and swallows. “What’s wrong?”

Renji’s voice is low and quiet, and he’s just standing there completely naked, not even reaching for clothes. Not reaching for Byakuya either, which is fortunate, because Byakuya’s reaction to being touched just now would be unpleasant. _Nothing_ , is the only thing he can think of to say, but it would be an obvious lie. “This was a mistake,” he says eventually, and his voice sounds not at all like his own.

“What was? Having sex with me? Holding me down?” Renji prompts softly, and something about the way he says it makes Byakuya whirl around and look him right in the eyes, because he’s _angry_ ; angry at Renji and angry at himself and talking about it is _not_ going to make the distasteful parts of his mind any less present.

Renji looks – defeated. Byakuya can’t stand it, because he’s only seen Renji look defeated once before, and it was Byakuya’s fault then, too. “Taking your advice,” he snaps, jaw clenching as he forces the words out. _You can do whatever you like._  

For no reason that he can fathom, Renji’s expression is relieved, then. He steps a little closer. “No it wasn’t,” he says. “Because I wanted you to. I still want you to.” There’s a pause, and Byakuya wants to leave, but in order to get dressed he would need to remove Renji’s shihakusho. “I don’t understand why there’s a problem, anyway. You didn’t used to mind dragging me around by my hair.” A small smile, as if this is somehow a fond memory for Renji.

Byakuya inhales sharply. He remembers his misguided attempts to maintain professional distance, to bring their working dynamic into sex, almost as well as he remembers their utter failure. It’s just as Ginrei always said: All self-indulgence, no self-control. Byakuya thinks of Hisana, small and fragile, and how he always held her so gently. Perhaps he used up all the gentleness he has, and all there is left for Renji is this violent thing that pries its way out of him.

 _I don’t understand why you want me_ , he will not say. _I don’t understand why you like me; there is so little left to like_. “You should go,” he says, and makes himself watch Renji’s face. “I am – not a suitable partner, for this. You should find someone else.”

He is not sure what he expected, but the flash of hurt is quickly replaced by anger. “Bullshit,” Renji says flatly.

Then he launches himself at Byakuya, grabs his hair and kisses fiercely, biting and twisting the hand in his hair hard enough to cause pain, and in a white-hot moment of pure rage Byakuya slips his hand around Renji’s throat and slams him against the wall with all his strength. With the other hand he slaps Renji across the face once, hard. Renji goes _boneless_ under his hand, and Byakuya feels the stinging pain in his palm and steps back at the sight of a slight trickle of blood that drips from Renji’s lip.

Renji looks directly at him, still totally naked, and his tongue slides out of the corner of his mouth to lap at the blood there. Byakuya feels sick enough at himself that he might vomit. The tongue disappears, and Renji rolls his shoulders and grins, not moving from his position against the wall. “Do that again,” he says, as if he wants it, as if there is nothing better than the taste of his own blood and Byakuya’s hand round his throat. “Do you get it?” He says, taking a slow step towards Byakuya, then another. “I like you. I want you. And I want you to bend me over a desk and pull my hair and grab my throat.” He stops a few inches away. Byakuya cannot reign in his breath or his heartbeat; they race, while the rest of him will not move. “Just – warn me when you’re feeling violent, will you? And try not to land me in the fourth; I’m shit at lying to Unohana-taichou.”

The only thing Byakuya can think of  to do is leave, is wrap himself in his haori and kenseikan and sit in the gardens of Kuchiki manor at night until the chill forces shivers out of him, is keep sitting there until he can stop the shivering by sheer force of will. He has done it many times, since before he had either kenseikan or haori, and he would sit with his bokken in his lap, hearing sakura-perfumed whispers of slicing the world to thousands of tiny pieces.

He can’t bring himself to leave, to do the only thing he knows will work, but he can’t bring himself to do anything else, either. So he stands in his office in only a shihakusho and attempts to collect himself. Renji’s body is warm; Byakuya can feel the heat radiating from him as he stands there, so close but not touching. Hot-blooded, they used to call Byakuya, as if it were disgusting. In all likelihood, no one remembers but him. And now Renji knows – but the thing he offers is mirroring heat, as if fighting fire with fire is Byakuya’s only hope. It has been almost a century since a kidou of his fell apart in flames. Renji’s explode as a matter of course, but he is never afraid; once, he even used it as a weapon.

He is not afraid of Byakuya, either. He is standing naked in front of Byakuya, hands by his sides with a slight bruise on his lip, and he is not afraid. Instead, Renji _wants_. This part of him is not disgusting to Renji; he is broken but not worthless; there is nothing but trust on Renji’s face.

He reaches.

Renji starts a little. “Your hands are cold,” he says, and he lifts them and rubs them between his own large palms. “It’s late; it’s getting chilly.”

“Perhaps we should retire,” Byakuya offers, and he’s standing on an invisible edge, too wary to breathe.

Renji hands Byakuya his clothes, and begins to dress himself. He leads them to the Captain’s room again, and the bed is still unmade from when they slept there before. Just inside the door, Renji hesitates. “Do you want me to stay?” he says, and it’s barely a whisper.

There is a moment of absolute stillness. Byakuya hesitates, but there is no force to push him one way or the other. Renji waits. It feels something like a gift that Renji has given him, this agency that is entirely his. _It is all right to want_ , he tells himself, and though he doesn’t believe it, he knows that Renji does. If Renji can do this and be unafraid, then Byakuya can learn.  

“Yes,” he says.

Getting into bed with someone purposefully, fully clothed, is disconcerting. Byakuya persists, however, because the thought of Renji leaving is worse. Renji handles him gently, as if he is fragile, and perhaps Renji has enough gentleness to make up for his own lack. He does not know how to touch with affection, but Renji is a patient teacher: he presses Byakuya’s palms to his own chest and smoothes back Byakuya’s hair where it is still hanging forward from the kenseikan.

There is a moment of stillness, where all he can feel is Renji’s heartbeat. It’s fast, even though they’re not moving, exactly as tightly wound as Byakuya’s own body. So Byakuya drops his hand to the hastily-tied sash around Renji’s waist, and slowly undoes it. He smoothes the shihakusho off Renji’s shoulders, and places Renji’s hand on his sash. Under the covers for warmth, they undress each other, in no hurry at all because it’s dark and the world seems a little unreal.

Too tense for sleep despite the late hour, and too tired for anything energetic,  they grind their hips together. Byakuya finds himself grasping tightly to everywhere on Renji’s body that he can reach, and raking his nails up and down Renji’s back. A litany of sounds spill out of Renji’s mouth between Byakuya’s biting kisses: he’s saying “Byakuya, please, Byakuya,” over and over in a flood as though he’s been holding them back for a long time. Renji’s hands are anchored firmly over Byakuya’s shoulders, and Byakuya is crushing Renji close, biting everywhere he can reach. Renji is shaking, and Byakuya buries his face in Renji’s shoulder and bites down and _comes_ , tasting blood but it’s all right because Renji is still holding on and saying _Byakuya_ and coming too.

He relaxes his grip, but does not let go. The sheets are a mess, and Renji’s back is – also a mess. “Your back is bleeding,” Byakuya says, uncertainly. He takes a second look. “So is your shoulder.”

“Don’ worry. Can buy more sheets,” Renji mumbles. That isn’t what Byakuya meant at all, but Renji curls into his shoulder and exhales, slipping one arm across his ribs. Renji is bleeding but seems contented, falling asleep already, and Byakuya can’t seem to feel much at all but the desire to follow him.

 

-

 

It’s still dark when Byakuya wakes the first time.  
  
He rises, wraps his shihakusho around himself and ties it with his sash, and fetches a towel. Renji is mumbling something sleepily into the pillows when he returns to do a little cleanup, and lifts his head and blinks blearily as Byakuya wipes his stomach. “Byak’ya?”

“A moment.” Byakuya goes to put the towel back in the bathroom, then removes the makeshift yukata and climbs back into bed. Renji _hmmms_ , and rearranges himself around Byakuya.  
  
“What on earth are we doing, Renji?” Byakuya looks at the dark ceiling, but it gives him no answers.

Surprisingly, Renji is awake enough to reply. “Sleeping.”

In the dark and warm, it seems like enough of an answer for now.

 

-

 

The second time Byakuya wakes up, Renji is lying and looking at Byakuya with his head propped up on his hand. It takes significant effort not to flinch, and he is rewarded with a smile. “Morning, Byakuya.”

Byakuya has never seen Renji this relaxed, he realises, eyes blurry and voice sleep-soft. Strange, for a man who seems to walk around so casually it’s almost impolite. “Good morning,” he offers. It’s been half a century since he slept next to anyone, and it seems he has forgotten how. Though his body hasn’t; come to think of it, he slept well, though it might have been exhaustion.

The previous evening feels like a dream, in the daylight. Yet it certainly happened; Renji’s left shoulder has a large purple bruise in the shape of a bite, and the cut on his lip is still visible, though no longer swollen. Byakuya swallows. He behaved – irrationally, poorly, he _hit_ Renji – but Renji licked up his own blood with a reckless grin and said, _more_. Byakuya can’t seem to force the facts into his mind; they’re entirely the wrong shape to fit with everything else there. He feels as though he is falling, but he can’t see the ground.

Renji raises a hand, tentatively, to sit on Byakuya’s jaw. He leans forward and brushes a kiss against Byakuya’s lips, and Byakuya doesn’t understand at all; Renji can be gentle but is never hesitant, what is going on? But one hand slips around Renji’s wrist and his pulse is racing. Renji is – afraid? What of? What is there to fear, here, that there was not (and much worse) last night?

Byakuya kisses back, more firmly. Renji lets out a long breath and leans in. For once, it’s enough; the urge to bite down sits quiescent in the base of his mind. Has he ever kissed someone and not had to fight himself? It’s been so long since he kissed anyone at all, and if he thought back he could likely count the sum total of everyone he’s kissed on one hand.

Renji pulls back, but only to rest his forehead gently against Byakuya’s, eyes closed, and take slow breaths. Byakuya has no idea what he’s doing, but then again he seems unable to make any sense at all of Renji’s actions. Renji, who laughs loudly and speaks bluntly and declares exactly what he thinks and feels in short, painful sentences is somehow, still, unreadable.  

“The rest of the division will in fact be here soon, this time,” Byakuya says.

Renji pulls back and offers a lopsided grin. “You want me to sort out tea?” He yawns, stretches expansively, and gets up to rifle around on the floor for clothing. He hands Byakuya some hakama – the correct pair this time – and pulls on his own.

“That would be appreciated,” Byakuya says, and Renji steals another kiss before heading off. Byakuya still tenses involuntarily every time, but Renji does it anyway, and though there is nothing comfortable about any of this, Byakuya cannot with any honesty say that he wishes Renji would stop.

It’s 11am before he can blink, it seems, and Renji shows Hitsugaya-taichou into Byakuya’s office with a tray of tea.

Hitsugaya bows and drops into seiza. “Good morning, Kuchiki-taichou.”

Byakuya blinks. He’d completely forgotten that Hitsugaya was coming, but he cannot blame Hitsugaya, who had courteously made an appointment. Byakuya only wishes everyone else would behave similarly  - and that he could resume his usual level of efficiency. “Is there something I can do for you, Hitsugaya-taichou?”

Hitsugaya murmurs an affirmative, and pauses to pour tea, first for Byakuya and then for himself. “This is an awkward situation," he says. “I wanted to consult you regarding some of the regulations.”

Byakuya sips his tea, considering. He is a sensible choice, in that case, and the appointment makes more sense than it did, because his previous interactions with the boy captain have been limited. He makes an encouraging noise.

“I have done research, obviously, but the books were – vague. I was hoping you would know if there was an official stance,” Hitsugaya clears his throat, “on – fraternisation with colleagues.”

Byakuya inhales his mouthful of tea, and the initial choking turns into a drawn-out coughing fit. Is this some sort of punishment? If Hitsugaya suspected, then Byakuya has just handed him confirmation. _He knows, everyone knows you fuck your lieutenant on your own desk after hours, when you’re not hitting him or choking him, deviant –_

“Are you all right, Kuchiki-taichou?” Hitsugaya says, one hand twitching as if he is considering slapping Byakuya on the back in aid of breathing.

“Yes,” he manages at length, daring to say nothing more incriminating.

“Ah - good,” Hitsugaya says, tugging at his scarf. A pause, and they look at each other and hold their tea in both hands.

It seems that Hitsugaya is not going to continue, which means that Byakuya must hold this conversation together, even though his mind is full of visions of the horrified reactions of his fellow captains - would anyone try to remove Renji from the sixth? That _cannot happen_ ; and would he rather give up Renji’s hoarse moans at orgasm and warm hands, or the competent fukutaichou attached to his side?

“Can you be more specific?” Byakuya prompts.

Hitsugaya blinks for much longer than is necessary. “Matsumoto is often – somewhat unprofessional. You have no doubt noticed. It has been getting worse, and I thought perhaps a definite statement about the rules would dissuade her.”

Yes, there’s definitely a slight flush to Hitsugaya’s cheekbones. Clearly, Matsumoto is showing her interest. Byakuya takes a cautious sip of tea to cover his deep breath. His chest hurts from all the coughing, and he wishes fervently for this meeting to be over.

“There is no official stance, except that professional behaviour is expected at all times while on duty. Given that the practice used to be encouraged, declaring it forbidden would be somewhat disingenuous.” Of course, he thinks, as the official line falls out of his mouth almost in self-defense. No one would try to remove Renji - so long as they were discreet. So long as no one in his family were to find out.

Hitsugaya still has not moved, or said anything to indicate that he heard. Was his response inadequate? What more can Hitsugaya want of him?

Byakuya takes a large gulp of tea, and places cup and saucer down firmly. "I will be blunt. I do not think I can help; you are going to have to have a _conversation_ with her."

“A conversation,” Hitsugaya repeats flatly. Byakuya can sympathise with this point of view, but at least Hitsugaya’s conversation will be more straightforward than his own recent ones have been.

“Unfortunately,” Byakuya says. “You are going to have to tell her plainly that you do not return her interest, and you would appreciate a return to professional conduct.” He can relax, and breathe normally again. Hitsugaya does not know; no one knows. The only remaining potential saboteur is himself, and the part of his mind that likes the taste of blood during sex. But he can control it, he can let it out just a little, enough to prise its claws out of his head and not enough to make Renji change his mind and run. He can - he must, otherwise it is all useless, he will have to give Renji up (and he can admit, in a whisper, how much he _does not want to_ ).

“I see,” Hitsugaya says. He drinks some tea and appears to think this over. “Thank you for advising me, Kuchiki-taichou.”

“Pleasure,” says Byakuya, and when Hitsugaya rises, bows and leaves, it occurs to Byakuya that the advice he gave was not the advice he would have given a few weeks ago. He’d probably have recommended reporting Matsumoto-fukutaichou for inappropriate behaviour, for all the good it would do. It’s also exactly what he tried with Renji, and it’s clear now that its utter failure was attributable solely to the fact that he _does_ return Renji’s interest. He wonders briefly if Hitsugaya is in the same predicament. Seen from the outside, it is altogether less shocking and unacceptable than it appears from the middle.

It’s lunchtime by the time Hitsugaya leaves, and there are voices coming from the direction of Renji’s office. The voice is – Rukia’s?

“I’m just saying, it’s weird as hell.” Byakuya falters in his approach; he thought Rukia had lost her Inuzuri accent, but apparently this is not so. He finds Rukia perched on the edge of Renji’s desk, eating an onigiri and swinging her legs. When she notices him, she hops down and bows. “Nii-sama.” Her voice is back to the cultured tone he is used to. Did someone take her aside and teach her? He himself had not; at their first meeting at the Academy, her voice had been unremarkable, blending into the rest of the students from the Seireitei in his memory. And then, at some point, she had learned to speak like a Kuchiki, in tone if not in wording.

“Renji. Rukia.” Byakuya manages.

“Taichou,” Renji says, and he looks round and puts down his chopsticks and brush. “You want me for something?”

“No. I was simply passing and heard Rukia’s voice. You are always welcome at the sixth of course, Rukia,” he turns and addresses this last to Rukia. “Though perhaps another chair should be acquired to save my lieutenant’s paperwork.” Renji makes a small affirmative noise and picks up his chopsticks once more.

Rukia, for no reason that Byakuya can see, turns abruptly to look at Renji, head at an angle. Renji gives her a confused look, and Rukia’s eyebrows raise. She looks round at Byakuya, then. Byakuya finds her expression unexpectedly direct. Renji, somehow, seems to know exactly what she meant because he’s staring determinedly at his lunch. Byakuya finds himself examining her face to try and divine the piece of silent communication that happened, but either he does not know her well enough, or he does not know Renji well enough, or perhaps both.

“I’ve been trying to persuade Renji to take an actual lunch break,” she says, and she’s back to relaxed and cheerful. “He always eats at his desk.”

Renji opens his mouth – to protest? – but Byakuya cuts him off. “That would be acceptable,” he says, Rukia’s gaze still on him. He did not know that Renji eats at his desk habitually. There are probably hundreds of little things he does not know about Renji, and likely Rukia knows them all: what he looked like as a child, and in what order he acquired his tattoos, and if there has ever been anyone else who made him shake with their kisses. “You are not behind on your work.”

“See? I told you Nii-sama wouldn’t mind. Besides, you might get crumbs on the paperwork.” Rukia pulls a frowning expression, but Renji smiles at her; she’s teasing him, evidently.

“Hey, I’ve been doing this lieutenant’s paperwork thing longer than you have!” He points a finger aggressively at her, and she rolls her eyes and hits Renji lightly on the shoulder. It’s as if she drops and picks up the Kuchiki in her name every time she switches from speaking to Renji to Byakuya, and back again. Byakuya struggles to control his flinch as Renji claps her on the shoulderblade in response, but Rukia absorbs the impact as though it’s expected, and perhaps she even leans in a bit, as though this bizarre custom is some sort of violent affection.

“See you, Renji. Nii-sama.” She ducks past Byakuya, and is gone.

Byakuya would like to sit down, but there is only one chair in Renji’s office. There are a number of things he wishes to inquire about, and they are all impolite, but if he and Renji are – something – then perhaps it is acceptable? “I did not know Rukia still has…” he pauses, unsure of his word choice. “an Inuzuri accent.”

Renji shifts round in his chair. “Well, she doesn’t bring it out often, these days. Only when she’s relaxed or dr – uh, tipsy.” And Byakuya has never heard it before.

Then he considers his reaction had Rukia one day, abruptly, begun speaking like a gang member over breakfast, and – he supposes he can see why not. Still, there is so much about her life that he doesn’t know. Ought he to show his interest more clearly? But how to do so without sounding like an interrogation?

He has never seen her inebriated, either, and wonders what she looks like with the line of her shoulders relaxed and pliant, laughing, speaking roughly in the company of her friends, and the image makes his throat hurt.

Renji swipes his bottom lip with his tongue. “Uh. You know, Rukia’s pretty perceptive.” He pauses, as if considering. “We’re gonna have to tell her something, Taichou. Cause she’s also pretty determined.”

The first though he has in response is _we should not be talking about this at work_. Realistically he does not want to have this conversation at all; he had not considered that he would have to _tell_ anyone about this situation with Renji. If he wished to torture himself, he might imagine the reaction of the rest of the family.

He wonders what it is costing Renji not to tell his oldest friend.

“You think she would not…” tell everyone? Threaten to tell their Aunt Suza? Become angry that Byakuya has taken up with her childhood friend, after taking her away from him? “…react poorly?”

Renji gives him an _are you crazy?_ expression. “Depends on what you mean by _poorly_. I reckon she’d squeak a lot and draw chibi pictures of us with bunnies and hit me over the head with Sode No Shirayuki until I promised to try and avoid her having to see us naked.” Renji winces a bit at that one, as if in memory.

Byakuya realises he is biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, and desists. “I will consider this.” Especially because it is likely Rukia will notice his absences at Kuchiki Manor, some nights. Bringing Renji home with him is even less wise.

He does not want to be doing this. But the only other options seem to be some sort of appalling incident _in flagrante delicto_ and ending the situation with Renji, and Byakuya has already attempted the second. One kiss, and the matter was hopeless. There had been a good reason he’d avoided kissing Renji, before that.

He should go back to his own office before he ends up doing something exceedingly unprofessional during his lunch break. He turns to leave, but it’s no good; he cannot help but cross the room to where Renji is sitting, and bend down to kiss him. Renji starts, then flings both arms round Byakuya’s neck, mouth curving in a smile under Byakuya’s lips. It’s more than a bit uncomfortable, but Byakuya allows the affection and curls his own hand around the back of Renji’s neck, and it’s a while before either of them lets go.

 

-

 

Byakuya returns to his own bed that evening after another of those dizzying, claustrophobic kisses. He thinks about how easy it is to make Renji smile; he would have described Renji as a cheerful person (likely with a pained expression) because of that grin he offers the world, but that was before he saw Renji’s soft smiles. He has learnt a few ways of procuring them; a kiss will do it, or slipping a thumb along Renji’s jaw, or an arm around his waist. He still does not know the word for the uncomfortable, pressing feeling in his chest when he does procure them.

Sleep does not come easily. He lies and thinks about the fact that he and Renji must interact with the rest of the world, separately and together, and what that entails. He thinks about the inevitable failure of secrecy, and the likely overreaction of the entirety of the Seireitei if they do not maintain secrecy.

He is beginning to suspect that he doesn’t care enough about these difficulties to stop.  There is even a traitorous corner of his brain that thinks that, despite the inferior quality of the bed in his captain’s room, it could have Renji in it, which is a significant advantage over this luxurious and empty one.

 

-

_He doesn’t know where he is. There are no windows, and the room is dark except for a few candles which illuminate a table covered in…equipment._

_There’s something in his hand, black leather – oh, it’s a crop, as for riding horses. He looks up, and Renji is there. Renji is utterly naked, standing against a wall with his wrists bound above his head. There are metal cuffs around his ankles, and they are chained to the floor in such a way as to prevent much movement. Byakuya feels anticipation rushing through his body, but makes no sudden movements. He takes a slow step forward, then another, stroking the crop with his left thumb to assess its texture. Renji is looking at the crop – and at Byakuya – with something like fear._

_Good._

_The violent thing inside him basks in it, and expands into his whole body. His grip on the crop firms, and he reaches out with it, running the tip over Renji’s body lightly. Renji tenses and twitches as the crop strokes his thigh, hip, chest, - a gasp as Byakuya flicks his wrist lightly to catch one nipple – and comes to rest against his cheek. He steps forward again and holds Renji against the wall by his neck, then kisses him, softly, as if he isn’t going to do what he’s going to do._

_It’s not hard to make the crop sting; it’s all in the wrist, and Byakuya finds all the places that sting the most; nipples, inner thighs, side of the face, aimed carefully. It’s not so much the pattern of burgeoning red marks as it is the pain noises Renji makes, which become sharper, and how he can’t help but struggle even though it’s useless._

_Byakuya places the crop back down on the table and picks up a short whip. The only sound, for a few moments, is Renji’s breathing. It’s possible to caress with a whip, but he doesn’t want to. He wants shouts of pain, and gets them, and they sound increasingly hoarse and broken as the pattern of bright red lines builds along Renji’s body. At the first stroke which draws blood, Renji’s eyes begin to water._

_Byakuya has had enough of waiting, then, and he throws the whip aside and approaches Renji. He tastes the blood welling from a wound across Renji’s chest, wipes tears away from under Renji’s eye with his thumb, then slaps him hard across the face. Renji cries out and flinches away, so Byakuya grabs his throat to hold him in place and slaps him again, once, twice, three times. Renji’s knees buckle at each impact until the hand around his neck seems to be the only thing keeping him upright.  His whole body is shuddering, now, and his face is wet._

_Byakuya can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, quick and loud. He undoes the chain which holds Renji’s cuffed wrists above his head, and Renji falls onto his knees, shaking. Byakuya backhands him hard across the face, and Renji shrinks against the wall. He undoes the sash of his yukata and wraps it around Renji’s neck, then his other hand slides into Renji’s loose hair and grips tightly; two points of leverage.  Byakuya forces Renji’s head back till his  mouth opens, then slides his cock inside, and allows himself a slight shudder of pleasure because Renji’s mouth is warm and wet and completely under Byakuya’s control. He doesn’t hold back; adrenaline is flooding through him and he can still taste Renji’s blood, he can hear small choking sounds and when they become too much he pulls back and slaps Renji again. He fucks Renji’s face violently, ruthlessly, and eventually spills into his mouth with a low groan that seems to reverberate through his whole body._

_Byakuya removes the sash from around Renji’s neck, and throws him to the floor by his hair. He ties the sash around his yukata once more, and places his sandaled foot on the side of Renji’s face, pinning him down._

_“Make yourself come.”_

_It’s an order. Renji hesitates, so Byakuya kicks his thigh, and he complies, taking shaky breaths. Byakuya can’t resist the sound Renji makes, or the way he flinches, curling into himself, so he does it over and over until Renji comes onto the dusty floor with something like a sob._

_There’s only the sound of breathing. Byakuya kneels down, and reaches out his hand towards Renji’s face._

_“Renji – ”_  
  
Byakuya opens his eyes and jerks in surprise. For a moment, he can’t parse where he is, but – no, this is his bedroom. White walls, watercolour landscapes on the opposite wall, desk, bookshelf: his room.

He can remember every last detail of his dream.

He half-falls out of bed and runs for the bathroom, where he expels the remains of last night’s dinner and lots of bile from his stomach, acid burning the back of his throat as he coughs and retches. His pyjamas are damp and sticking to him with sweat; or – on closer examination – sweat and semen.

Byakuya would vomit again if there were anything left in his stomach. He struggles out of his pyjamas, the silk material under his fingers feeling exactly like the sash he wrapped _(didn’t wrap it was a dream, it didn’t really happen, you’re not that much of a monster, not yet)_ around Renji’s neck, and stumbles into the shower.  
  
He sits for a very long time, and doesn’t notice when the water turns cold.

 

-

 

Sometime later, when he’s managed to crawl back into bed and stop shivering, there’s a knock on the door.

“Nii-sama? Are you all right in there?” A pause. “I asked around, and apparently you haven’t left your room all day,” she continues. “Nii-sama?”

Eventually, the sound of her receding footsteps.

 

-

 

The sun is setting before he moves again.

There’s another knock. “Uh, Taichou? Are you all right? It’s not like you not to come to work without sending a hell butterfly.” It’s Renji’s voice, clear and concerned, and Byakuya holds his breath.

“Nii-sama, please tell us if you’re all right.” Rukia, this time, and she must have gone to fetch Renji. Byakuya cannot fault her logic, even as he wants to scream.

They will go away, surely, if he just pretends he doesn’t exist.

There’s an almighty crash, and Renji sprawls into the room, blasting bits of decimated door in all directions. He turns, sees Byakuya, and his expression changes immediately.

“Byakuya,” he says, and kneels on the edge of the bed. “You don’t look very well; why didn’t you answer us? We were worried.” He waves one hand to indicate Rukia, but does not take eyes off his Byakuya. Rukia takes a step forward, but is still just inside the doorway, as though wary.

Renji is far, far too close, and it takes all of Byakuya’s strength not to flinch. He isn’t wearing any clothes, and Renji’s shihakusho is a little torn and pulled aside to reveal the unmarred skin of his chest, and it should be reassuring. It’s not, because Byakuya remembers _wanting_ to mark that   expanse, wanting to draw blood and lick it up greedily, cries of pain echoing in his ears.

Byakuya looks at Rukia, which is marginally less unsettling. He takes a breath, and he needs to get Renji out of here _now_ , because Byakuya can smell him and feel his reiatsu and despite the dream all he wants to do is drag Renji close and kiss the breath out of him _(not all the breath, it’s a metaphor, it’s a metaphor, he wants air in Renji’s lungs, glorious heartbeat and breathing working as it should)_.

“Rukia. Why is my lieutenant here?” He allows his gaze to trail over the broken bits of wood littering the floor. “And why did you permit him to _break down my door_?”

Renji flinches, and it’s in the right direction. Byakuya’s getting what he wants, and if he’s clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dig painfully into his palms then no one else needs to know, least of all Renji _(who flinches just like that when he’s slapped, though it’s strange, isn’t it, that he looked less hurt in the dream)_.

Rukia loses the tentative expression and her eyes flick from Byakuya, to Renji, and back to Byakuya, but she says nothing. “Byakuya?” Renji’s right hand is twitching lightly, as if he wants to reach forward, and Byakuya doesn’t know what he’ll do if Renji touches him. “Should we get you to the fourth?”

“I am _perfectly fine_ ,” Byakuya all but snarls back, and he looks at Rukia again. “But perhaps we should call the fourth anyway, because my lieutenant seems to be labouring under the delusion that he is allowed in my house without my permission.”

There are a few long, long seconds where no one does anything at all. Then Renji slowly and carefully stands and backs away a few paces. “I – I’ll go.” There’s something horribly wrong about the way he’s standing, about the way he swallows twice before saying, “I hope you feel well enough to return to work soon, Taichou.” He tries to exit, but Rukia is in his way, and he makes some aborted gesture with his hands.

Rukia seems to draw herself up, and manages a _smile_ from somewhere, though it is tense and polite and not at all happy. “Renji, my brother is not feeling well. Why don’t you let us speak in private for a few minutes? If you go to the kitchens, Himemara would be delighted to fetch you some tea.” And there it is, Kuchiki Rukia, so much his sister that even Ginrei would be proud of the toweringly assertive politeness in her tiny form.

Byakuya almost interrupts her, furious, but she steps aside to allow Renji to leave without saying another word. She turns once more and fixes Byakuya with her gaze, and Byakuya wishes he were dressed so he could retreat, but all of a sudden he suspects her willing and able to break down every door in the manor.

“How couldyou,” she says, and her eyes are wide and – is she about to cry? “How _could_ you, Nii-sama?” She’s angry now, shouting, and he’s so caught between _how dare you_ and something like gratitude, that she cares enough to shout at him the way he’s seen her shout at Renji or Kurosaki, that he stares at her and says nothing at all. “Renji _loves_ you, you unbelievable idiot, so how _dare_ you hurt him like that for no good reason at all! It’s not as if he couldn’t find someone less – ” she waves one hand in frustration “ – _emotionally constipated_ if he wanted to; he’s handsome and kind and funny and I’m sure people would be damn well _queuing_ to be in with a chance, but no, it’s you he wants. And you treat him like garbage! I won’t let you!” And she marches over and smacks him over the head with Sode No Shirayuki’s hilt once, smartly, as though practised.

Byakuya’s eyes water at the pain. He should – how dare she hit him? – he should – lock her out with kido, or –

Rukia stamps her foot to draw his attention. “ _Do you understand?_ Or do I have to hit you again?”

She knows about him and Renji - Renji must have told her. And for all that she’s angry, she is not angry about him and Renji; she’s angry that he _hurt_ Renji, that he sent him away. He wants to scream at the irony because there can’t be him and Renji, anymore - and _this_ is what will cause her to judge him, not the assignation to begin with? He should demand that she tell no one else of his indiscretions, but somehow what falls out of his mouth is,

“Impossible. Renji wouldn’t – Renji doesn’t love me.” He can’t. It’s not possible. Renji said nothing to Byakuya; would he truly have told Rukia first? And if he does – then this is an even bigger disaster than he thought. It can’t be helped. He will not allow himself to hurt Renji, not ever.

Rukia throws her hands up in the air almost aggressively. “Just – just _shut up_! Of course he loves you, all you need to do is watch his face when he talks about you and it’s blindingly obvious!” Byakuya winces at her volume but she’s clearly not done. She takes a few quick breaths then continues, “Now can we get back to the important point of _why are you being a complete moron?”_   

He cannot think of one single thing to say in reply. His mind is full of Renji’s soft kisses, Renji’s voice when he says _Please, Byakuya_ , Renji’s arms thrown round Byakuya’s neck when he took up his courage and initiated a kiss, and that time they had sex on Byakuya’s office floor, when Renji turned over and gave him a sleepy smile, blindingly bright in his memory.

No wonder he was afraid of Renji’s smile, at the time. If Renji loves him, then he is even more of a monster than he thought.

“I – I cannot do this, Rukia. Renji should find someone else, as you said,” he manages, and if the thought of seeing Renji eating lunch at his desk wrapped around someone else makes him feel completely empty, then he must simply endure it, and never speak of it. This is the only way of being fair to Renji.

Rukia’s hand tightens on the saya of Sode No Shirayuki. “No,” she says. “No. You’re going to fix it. You’re going to talk to Renji and you’re going to tell him how very, very sorry you are for being such an ass, that you’ll never do it again, and that he’s welcome at the house anytime because he deserves better than sneaking off to the captain’s quarters at the sixth.” She jabs her sword forward, for emphasis, in time to her speech. _Yes,_ he thinks. _Exactly. I won’t ever do it again - but only if I keep away from him_.

Byakuya can feel his hands shaking; he hasn’t eaten at all today. How can he make her understand? He’s broken and sick and quite possibly dangerous, and if he had the courage to explain then she would look at him in disgust and do the exact opposite of what she’s doing now, would pull him away from Renji instead of trying to force them together.  He does not have the courage to explain this violent sickness; he is not strong enough to bear her disgust.

“You cannot understand,” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“You’re right. I don’t understand what possible line of thinking led you to decide to do this. But I don’t care, because you’ve been so happy the past while.” She’s not shouting anymore, and her grip on Sode No Shirayuki is trembling slightly. “I didn’t understand until Renji told me what was happening. Now I do; Renji makes you happy. He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And if you want me to stop trying to fix it so you can be happy again, you’re going to have to un-adopt me.”  Her chin jerks upwards as she says this, as if she’s prepared to accept it if he tells her to get out of the house and never come back.

His teeth clench. He knows that’s what he ought to do. The rest of the family never wanted her; it was he who insisted. Byakuya wants to go to the portrait of Ginrei and say, _I cannot do it. You were right, I am not strong enough to lead the family, I am too selfish. I cannot deprive myself of both of the people I love, not for their good, and not for the good of my family._

 _I have failed, as you always said I would_.

He cannot explain to Rukia, but he will explain to Renji. He will explain to Renji every detail of the dream, if he has to, and he will go on explaining until Renji understands, until Renji decides to leave of his own accord. Renji deserves this much, deserves to be able to walk away without regrets, and Byakuya will give him this if it kills him. _(And it must not kill you; remember your duty; you will continue until Rukia has Bankai and you can leave the sixth and the clan in her competent hands, and damn them all who say she cannot, for Ginrei had said you could not, and she is stronger than you ever were)_

“I will talk to Renji,” he says, finally. “Tomorrow.”

Rukia seems to deflate a bit, as if she has spent herself. “Right. Good. You should have something to eat, Nii-sama.” Her voice is soft all of a sudden, even - affectionate? - and Byakuya can bear this least of all. She nods and turns to leave, stepping over bits of door.

Once she has gone, Byakuya’s arms curl around his chest against the sudden cold.

 

-

 

Byakuya isn’t sure whether to avoid Renji at work the next day, but Renji takes the decision out of his hands by running an impromptu all-day drop-in training session for the entire squad in the courtyard outside.

Byakuya does not blame him in the slightest, but he might as well admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he would like to be around Renji as captain and lieutenant, so that this evening he can remember what he is trying to salvage. Perhaps it is presumptuous for him to hope that Renji will stay at the sixth, but he hopes nonetheless.

He stays in his office that day, and dutifully catches up on his paperwork, listening to the sounds of training outside. Occasionally he can hear Renji’s voice, pitched to carry as he instructs.

 

-

 

“Byakuya,” Ukitake’s voice is surprised and very close, and Byakuya halts abruptly and tries to step backwards to avoid crashing into him. He does not need this; he wants to go home, attempt some dinner, and change out of his uniform before he must speak to Renji.

“My apologies, Ukitake,” Byakuya says. “I did not see you.” In the middle of a sparsely populated street just behind the sixth.

Ukitake looks at him for just a moment too long, and Byakuya thinks, too late, that he should have continued walking. “Byakuya…Rukia mentioned that you were unwell yesterday, but truthfully, you don’t look very well today. Is everything all right?”

Byakuya replays in his mind the look on Renji’s face as he left, yesterday, and the feeling of Renji’s jaw under his foot. “I am fine,” he says.

Ukitake offers a gentle smile. “Of course,” he says. “Still, perhaps you could use a change of scenery? Please come round this evening for some tea, if you would like.” Ukitake nods and walks off, footfalls almost silent, before Byakuya can summon a reply.

 

-

 

Byakuya’s hands fumble uselessly with the obi of his best yukata. Removing his kenseikan to comb his hair was a mistake, because his fingers are fumbling uselessly with the tiny clasp. Perhaps he shouldn’t wear them at all, but the task of removing them defeats him, as his hair is knotted around the fine silver chain which holds them together. He does not look at himself in the mirror before he leaves, because this is the best that he can presently do, and there is no need to make this more difficult.

He is halfway to the sixth when he realises that he does not know where Renji lives.

He stops where he is and takes a deep breath. If he goes home to ask Rukia, he is not certain of his ability to leave again. Instead, he heads to Ukitake’s house. Perhaps a cup of tea will do him good.

Ukitake’s housekeeper shows Byakuya through to a reception room where Ukitake sits in seiza, reading. He looks up at Byakuya’s entrance. “Ah, Byakuya, you made it!” He smiles, and reaches for a tray of tea supplies to his left.

Byakuya sits. “Ukitake,” he says, in greeting.

Ukitake looks at him, and his hands pause around the edge of the tray. He stands and opens a cabinet from which he procures a bottle and two bowls. Wordlessly, he places the bowls down, fills them, and hands one to Byakuya.

 _I am fine_ , Byakuya wants to say, but Ukitake did not ask how he was. Clearly, he looks as though he needs a drink. It is possible that, for once, Ukitake is correct.

Byakuya drains the bowl and puts it down. Ukitake refills it, the same mild look on his face, and somehow the silence is not awkward; it’s as if Ukitake is waiting patiently for something to happen. Byakuya attempts to drink the second more slowly, with limited success. He shouldn’t have come; however much one part of him wishes for an alcoholic haze over his thoughts and feelings, in the end, it will not make it any easier to part himself from Renji.

By the time he’s getting started on a third, he really doesn’t feel any better, just more vague. Ukitake murmurs a few words of small talk and Byakuya manages a reply, probably. He should have swallowed his damn pride and asked Rukia where Renji lives, because now he can think of nothing else but Renji, all the times he’s seen Renji smile, all of their kisses, and the imagined look on Renji’s face when Byakuya explains why they cannot continue -

Byakuya starts; there’s sake all over his yukata and all over Ukitake’s floor – he should clean it up, or call the housekeeper – he doesn’t know her name –

“Byakuya,” Ukitake places one cool hand on Byakuya’s arm, and he finds himself stilling. Ukitake reaches into a drawer and fetches a towel. “Here.” Byakuya mops at the floor and at his yukata, thankful for its dark colour. Ukitake releases his arm and relaxes back into seiza, refilling Byakuya’s bowl but only halfway. “Won’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Utterly pointless to deny that there is something, Byakuya supposes. “I – my lieutenant and I – ” No. Renji deserves better than that. “Renji and I…I have…behaved most inappropriately, and I must fix it, however…”

He finds the whole story, edited as much as he can manage under the influence, slipping out much more easily than he is used to. Inelegant and only half coherent, perhaps, but it seems to be the only way it will come. He speaks more to his bowl of sake than to Ukitake, but Ukitake’s reiatsu is calm and light as he murmurs encouraging sounds every time Byakuya falters.

He does not, of course, mention the dream. The best he can do is assure his bowl of sake that he is an entirely unsuitable partner for Renji; that he has hurt him and treated him poorly and will probably do so again; that if Renji loves him then there is nothing he can do to make his broken self worthy of it; that he does not know how to be with someone, and he should stop trying before he makes any more mistakes.

That he is supposed to be telling Renji all of this, but instead he’s here, drinking sake because he is too weak to do the right thing.

By the time he is finished, the sake is gone. Byakuya takes a deep breath, and forces himself to finally meet Ukitake’s eyes.

Ukitake is smiling gently. “I hope you’re not expecting me to agree with all of that,” he says, and Byakuya freezes – but Ukitake continues, “But don’t you think you should allow Renji to decide for himself what he wants?”

Byakuya swallows. “Even if it were possible, if I were – ” _not a monster, not someone who would choke his lover with a sash and taste blood at the moment of orgasm_ “I – ”

The door bursts open, and a red-headed figure drops to the ground and says, “ _Sumimasen Deshita!”_

Renji’s hair is falling out of its hair tie, as though he’s been clawing at it, and his knuckles are white. “Sumimasen,” he repeats, and only then does he look up. “Ukitake-Taichou, I came to return this book for Rukia-fukutaichou, but you were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt – and then it seemed that not interrupting was worse! Please forgive my intrusion,” his eyes flick to Byakuya, then back to the floor. Byakuya swallows, trying to regain some semblance of control after his long outburst. Renji is the very last person he wants to see right now, but Byakuya cannot take his hungry eyes off him.

“Rukia sent you?” Ukitake inquires, but he isn’t angry. “Well, it’s a little unusual, but you came at a good time, Renji-san.” He beckons Renji to sit up. “I think I’ll leave you and Byakuya for a while; the two of you have some talking to do.”

Renji just stares at him, face still pink, breathing quick as though he just completed a sprint. “Taichou,” he says, voice rough and hesitant.

Byakuya takes a breath. He can do this; he must. The alcohol haze is making everything more difficult, including resisting the urge to just _reach_ for Renji and do no talking at all, just curl his fingers into Renji’s hair and clothes and hold on until the lurching sensation passes. “How much did you hear?”

Renji swallows, and looks at the ground again. “Most of…what you said.”

There is a silence in which it feels like neither of them breathes. “I…suppose that saves time,” Byakuya manages, and he can’t feel angry, not really, for being saved the difficulty of repeating himself. The sake he drunk is still filtering into his bloodstream, and his coherency is not realistically going to improve. He needs to say his piece and leave, before any resolve that he has turns completely to dust. Curse Ukitake, for feeding him sake, for listening to his drivel, and for _understanding_.

“I – I love you,” Renji blurts, still looking at the floor. “Rukia said she’d told you, anyway, so you might as well hear it from me. I love you, and you’re not broken, or – or unworthy, or any of that rubbish, and it did hurt when you told me to get out of your house, but I’ll forgive you if you apologise.” Renji lifts his head suddenly, and his expression is painful to watch, earnest and open. He means it; he means every damn word. Renji means everything he says.

Byakuya will have to bear seeing Renji’s expression close off in disgust, because there is no forgiveness for the sickness inside him. “I know,” Byakuya says. And there is something like hope on Renji’s face for a second, and that’s _worse_ – no, he had steeled himself for disgust but _hope_ might slay him, so he continues, “But I must stand by what I said.”  

He takes a deep breath. It isn’t even nearly enough. He hands Ukitake’s untouched bowl of sake to Renji, and refills his own; he will pay for this in the morning, but perhaps the hangover will obliterate all thought for a time. Renji takes a sip, evidently confused.

So Byakuya tells him about the dream. He starts off in generalities: _I chained you up and hit you, and I liked it. No, you don’t understand, you were shouting in pain, flinching away, and I hit you anyway. With a crop, and then a whip, and you were bleeding._  And then when Renji doesn’t react as expected, he continues: _You don’t understand; I choked you with my sash around your neck, I whipped you till you bled all over then licked up your blood, I threw you to the floor and ordered you to make yourself come and kicked you, over and over, until you did; I beat you so hard you screamed and cried, you were afraid and I liked it, I wanted it._ He can’t stop talking, over and over, and even as he wants to vomit again there is heat pooling in his belly, and he is sick at himself. He tells Renji so: _I am sick and broken, don’t you see? Sick and broken and dangerous and you must stay away from me._

Renji shuffles over to him and puts one hand on his shoulder and another against his lips, stopping the flow of words. “Stop saying that,” he says, and his voice is rough as though he can barely make it work. “Goddamn you, stop saying that. You’re not sick and you’re not broken and I fucking love you, okay, so I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.”

“You cannot mean that,” Byakuya says, because it is the only thing that comes into his mind, the only reality that makes any sense.

Renji wraps one hand round Byakuya’s wrist, and curls Byakuya’s fingers around his own throat. “Go on,” he says. Byakuya tries to snatch his hand back, but Renji won’t let him. “You don’t want to hurt me,” Renji says. “If you did, you’d want to right now. Look, you can’t be at the eleventh without learning a few things about fighting and pain, and one of the things I learned was that the difference between a real fight and sparring with your friends isn’t about how injured you get; It’s that once you’re done, your friends’ll take you to the fourth and dig out your spare uniform while you’re getting patched up.”

Byakuya can’t make himself move away; the impulse to lean into Renji, not even a foot away, is too strong, so he is frozen in place. He had thought – he would reveal his deepest shame, and the payment would be that it would be Renji’s choice to walk away. He had forgotten that Renji belonged to the eleventh for a decade or two; clearly, the insanity has not left him.

“Sex is like that; you can get as beat up as you like, but the difference is it’s with someone you trust,” Renji’s voice cracks again, and he has to clear his throat before continuing, “You’d clean me up and get me a something to eat and a blanket after, if we did something that crazy intense, right?” He’s grinning now, and trying to look relaxed, but his hands are shaking where they’re holding both of Byakuya’s, and when did that happen? And is it Byakuya’s hands that are shaking?  

Is Renji saying…”I – you cannot be suggesting - I couldn’t - ” he stammers, because Renji is completely mad, and the slightly hysterical laughter that he comes out with does nothing to contradict this idea.

“Well then, what the hell is the problem?” And Renji keeps on laughing.

Byakuya thinks that he wants to learn this insanity of Renji’s, that drags the most twisted of nightmares into the open and laughs.

“I would,” he answers belatedly. “Of course, I would – take care of you.”

Renji _launches_ himself at Byakuya, and the force topples them both over backwards onto the floor. Renji’s pulse is hammering, so fast and strong that Byakuya can feel it through his hand on the side of Renji’s neck. Their kiss is sloppy and desperate and undignified, sprawled out on Ukitake’s floor, and Byakuya’s left leg is going numb where Renji’s hip is digging in, and the whole room is spinning but he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the sudden overdose of Renji. Renji’s hair tie gives up completely and Byakuya is covered in red hair; all he can smell is Renji and sake.

“You damn well better,” Renji growls into his mouth.

Byakuya holds on and bites Renji’s lip, and his low laughter is swallowed by their kiss.

They’ve managed to disentangle, barely, when Ukitake returns and very politely mentions that he should like to go to bed. He tucks the half-empty bottle of sake into Renji’s hands as he waves them off, smiling in a way that says he knows exactly what is happening, but Byakuya will likely care more tomorrow.

Renji twists the cap off the bottle, but Byakuya stills his hand. “Don’t,” he says, because even though he’s having to concentrate to walk straight, he will not be seen with a man swigging expensive sake out of a bottle on the street.

And, really, he ought to send Ukitake-Taichou another bottle of sake.

Renji shrugs. “Where to?”

Which is how they end up in Renji’s apartment. Byakuya doesn’t know why he’s surprised at the sparse cleanliness; it’s not as if Renji’s office is especially messy. But still, he supposes he’d expected more personal things lying around. As it is, there’s only a few hair ties on the bedside table, a plain bathrobe hanging behind the bedroom door, and - the most expensive thing in the room by a long way, including the furniture - a stand for Zabimaru. Renji places Zabimaru on it carefully, and fetches two bowls.

They sit down on the bed while Renji pours. “Right. We’re going to get utterly wasted and sort this out and then _please_ will you fuck me because if you don’t I might explode,” he says, and hands Byakuya a bowl.

Byakuya swallows. “I am already...somewhat inebriated,” he says, and he still isn’t used to Renji just saying things like that _out loud_ , and though he’s halfway to tipsy Byakuya wouldn’t put it past him to say the same thing completely sober.

Renji just grins, and takes a long drink. “I’ll just have to catch up with you, then.”

This is a terrible idea, Byakuya thinks. They both have work in the morning, and at this rate, they will be no use at all. On the other hand, they have not been very much use for the past few weeks, and Byakuya’s productivity now seems to be intimately tied to whether or not he has spent the night with Renji.

He takes a cautious drink. After all, it’s only 11pm. Renji is right next to him, and Byakuya sees no reason at all why he shouldn’t just drown in Renji’s kisses, punctuated with sips of sake.

“I should probably have said all this before, but you freaked the hell out when I tried this conversation the first time,” Renji says, between kisses. “I like pain. I like being tied up, and the only thing better than being tied up is being thrown around and held down. I like being naked when you’re still dressed; I like when you grab my hair and fuck my mouth.” They seem to be sharing one bowl of sake now, passing it back and forth. Byakuya tries to concentrate, to listen to the litany of things that Renji likes and remember them, but it’s difficult with the sake and Renji all over him and the inevitable, overpowering arousal. “I know you were freaking out but I had a hard time not just pouncing on you when you were talking about your dream because that was fucking _incredible_. I’ve never been slapped like that during sex, but it sounds…”Renji squirms in his lap. “...as if I’m gonna like that, too.”

Renji reaches for both of Byakuya’s hands, slides one into his loose hair and puts the other on his face. “Go on,” he says. “Try. I want to see what it feels like.” It’s hard to breathe. Byakuya is so warm, and he can feel Renji’s hot breath on his face. He curls his fingers in Renji’s hair to keep him in place and lightly slaps his face once, watching carefully. He needn’t have: Renji tenses once and then shivers, eyes fluttering closed, and a low moan escapes his throat. So Byakuya does it a few more times, until Renji is almost boneless in his lap, and when Byakuya kisses him he clings on to the shoulders of Byakuya’s yukata and mutters, “Fucking _hell,_ look at what you do do me.”

Byakuya isn’t feeling especially steady either. They’re talking about this, and the world isn’t ending; they’re doing this, and he isn’t out of control and Renji isn’t hurt; Renji is making little involuntary hip motions, and all Byakuya can think about is how much he wants to throw Renji onto the bed and remove their irritating clothing. “I think...the effect is mutual,” Byakuya manages, and his voice is hoarse but the part of him that is horrified by this display is overwhelmed and outvoted. He reaches for Renji’s sash and tugs at it impatiently.

“You don’t need to be afraid of freaking me out or hurting me,” Renji says, impeding Byakuya’s efforts to remove his sash by leaning forward to press kisses down the side of Byakuya’s neck onto his shoulder. “I like being scared - hell, if you fucked me with a knife at my throat I reckon I’d come like a damn racehorse - ” Byakuya jerks in surprise at the sudden rush of images this conjures, and if he doesn’t start making headway with their clothes _right how_ he’s going to slice them off with Senbonzakura and endure his Zanpakuto’s sulking. “But I’d tell you if it was too much, yeah? And we could stop and do something else and it’d be fine,” and _finally_ Byakuya manages to undo the sash holding on Renji’s hakama and shihakusho so that they fall open. He shoves them out of the way as best he can, and somewhere in there Renji managed to untie Byakuya’s obi.

Byakuya growls and shoves them both backwards until they’re gloriously horizontal. He pins Renji’s wrists above his head with one hand and with the other he grabs Renji’s cock. Expletives tumble out of Renji’s mouth, and they get louder when Byakuya leans forward to sink his teeth into Renji’s neck. Renji wriggles, trying to get one wrist free for something, but Byakuya shifts more of his weight onto the hand holding them down. Renji groans in frustration. “Fuck, Byakuya, _please_. I ain’t gonna last, here.”

“You can struggle if you like, but you won’t be allowed to use your hands until I want you to,” Byakuya says, and releases Renji’s cock to slap him across the face once again, harder this time, and the swift flash of worry disappears when Renji arches his whole body off the bed with an _uh_ of pained pleasure.

“Not helping, if you want me not to come,” Renji slurs, and god, pain makes Renji come?

Byakuya has entirely lost his patience, too. “Where…?” He looks around for a likely place for lubricant of some description, and Renji manages, “Nightstand.” Byakuya slaps Renji once and says, “Don’t move,” then leans over to rummage around till he finds a jar of oily liquid.

He slicks himself and pushes in, lifting one then the other of Renji’s legs over his shoulders, and is astonished to find that he can lean right over Renji, close enough to bite at his lips, and Renji’s legs are flexible enough to accommodate him. Renji isn’t struggling under Byakuya’s hands anymore; his head is tipped back, exposing his throat, and his eyelids are closed and fluttering. Sounds come out of his mouth that might be half-formed words, and Byakuya finds himself biting his own lip to restrain the harsh sounds that try to force themselves out of his throat. He wraps one hand around Renji’s cock and Renji comes seconds later, his whole body shuddering, and Byakuya thinks that whatever the state of the soundproofing in this apartment block, it’s likely that all of Renji’s neighbours will be aware of their activities.

Renji has gone completely limp, sweaty red hair spilling everywhere, but Byakuya pulls out and drags Renji around till he can bury himself in Renji’s mouth instead. Renji makes an abortive gesture with one arm, as if trying to assume a better position, but Renji’s throat is wet and relaxed and it doesn’t take long at all before Byakuya’s falling off the edge, biting his lip till he tastes blood, and then collapsing beside Renji on the bed.

There’s several minutes of heavy breathing before Byakuya can think properly again. He stands, and manages to stagger his way into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and bring it back to quench his raging thirst. Renji hasn’t moved. Byakuya flops back on the bed, and pulls the cover on top of them.

“It seems that your perspective on this issue is...worthy of consideration,” Byakuya says.

Renji gives a muffled laugh, and throws one arm across Byakuya’s chest before his breathing settles into sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can also be found at vorvayne.tumblr.com and vorvayne.deviantart.com, flailing and making bad jokes and posting a lot of Bleach.


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